Mi dispiace
by BucketsOfCrazyLove
Summary: The shouting always felt bad, as if he was opening unsealable wounds inside him. But it was better than the other option. Yes, it was better than telling the truth and getting hurt. This pain, this pain he could handle. Lovino wants Antonio to hate him. He must. Because love always hurts. Even more than death Spamano. AU. Oneshot. Mafia!Romano. Tragedy. Eminent character death.


**A/N: I'm in the mood for some downy shit right now, so don't be surprised if this is tear-inducing.  
**

"Hey, Lovi! Where are you going? Can I come with? Please, can I come with?" Lovino jumped at the sound of the happy voice behind him. Oh, no... Not now...

"What do you want, bastardo? I have a job to do. Go away." He didn't turn to look at the man who now walked next to him. A heavy lump was forming in his throat, and ugly guilt and regret filled his chest. He couldn't make himself look at anything but the road right in front of him. His heart pounded, and it felt like it would pop out its place. He crossed his arms in front of his chest as if to stop the erratic organ from moving away.

"Awww, Lovi, why?" Lovino internally flinched. God, why again? "Don't you fucking understand? I said I don't fucking want you with me! I hate you, you fucking bastard!" The shouting always felt bad, as if he was opening unsealable wounds inside him. But it was better than the other option. Yes, it was better than telling the truth and getting hurt. This pain, this pain he could handle.

Lovino somehow managed to make himself turn his head and look at the wide-eyed green stare of the Spaniard. He didn't utter a word, not a word, just snarled at the other man and took off, running in the opposite direction of Antonio as fast as he could, his feet slapping the pavement, his hand pressed up against his mouth, so the sobbing stayed inside him, and the tears ran from his eyes silently, the wind whipping the wet trails towards his temples and in his hair.

No, no, this was better. He... he had to make Antonio hate him. Think of him and feel disgust clogging his throat. That would be better. That... that idiot of a beautiful man should never ant to talk to him again. He should hate his fucking guts. Tonio deserved better than what Lovino was. And he was nothing. Just an empty carcass of a boy he used to be.

Lovino turned his head to look behind him, and realized that he had gotten further away from where he had expected to be. So he made a sharp turn, and pulled to an abrupt stop in an alley. No one was around. So he leaned his forehead against the cold wall and sobbed. And sobbed. He was biting his lip to silence the sound as much as he could, but it didn't help much. He couldn't go on like this. This was killing him.

Maybe he should just walk up the boss and ask to leave. He bet the guys would beat him to death. Yeah, that would be nice, finally silencing everything. No more calls in the middle of the night about people that needed to be taken care of. No more deals with men he didn't trust or wanted to see ever again. No more Antonio showing up at his doorstep like a lost puppy with a basket of tomatoes, asking him out on dates he always said no to. No more "Did you know, Lovi, that hidden beneath the letters of the word 'tomatoes' are the words 'Te amo'?" said in Antonio's happy, Spanish-accented voice. Just pure, indestructible silence.

Lovino took a deep breath, straightened his shirt, making sure it covered the gun hidden at the back of his pants, and left the alley, heading towards the industrial part of town. He had a job to do, no matter what his thoughts were. He had a brother to protect, he had responsibilities towards the Famiglia to take over. So, he couldn't just leave this world as he wanted. And there was no way he was ending up in anywhere but hell, with the stuff he'd done over the years. God forgave anything. But he just bet he could make an exception for him.

So he just went to the Famiglia once again, like he did every night of his life for the last six years of his life and prayed to God they gave him a drug dealing job, and not any Retribution shit again. He couldn't do that again. He just couldn't take anyone's life tonight. He couldn't.

VV

"Hey, fratello." Feliciano plopped down on the stairs next to him. His voice was scratchy, and sadder than it would really be if they hadn't been in the mafia. But he still managed to smile shakily at Lovino, as the older of the two Italians looked at him as blankly, with no emotion in his eyes, because that was how he felt. Like he was all too empty and nothing could fill him up. Not anymore. Not anymore.

"Will we be going out together, Lovi?" Lovino shook his head at his brother. "No, Feli. We won't be. I... They're sending me to get Retribution." He mumbled the last part, as if that would make it any less true.

"Ooo, fratello, mi dispiace. I'm sorry." Feliciano was whispering as horror and regret filled his amber eyes. Lovino shrugged, his bitterness beginning to take a disgusting taste in his mouth. "Why the fuck would you apologize? Not your fault now, is it?" Feli blinked at him, still looking as if he might cry. His brother shouldn't have ever been involved with the mafia. He was too innocent and good for this world. Nothing like him. Him, the dirty, sinful killer.

"B-but fratello, I'm still sorry. Who... who will you...?" His words faded in the cold, hard silence of the now empty abandoned factory where the Famiglia held its meetings and gave out orders.

"Some guy who's family offed one of ours in a drug deal gone bad. Poor fucker." Lovino got up and stretched his legs, trying not to think. He wanted his mind to be blank. No thoughts, no regrets no guilts. Only that way would he be able to take another man's life.

"Have a good night, fratello. See you tomorrow." He kept his words cold, but Feliciano still hugged him and murmured "Buonanotte, mi fratello." But both of them knew that wasn't true. Lovino hadn't had a goodnight since he was thirteen years old and he was forced in the Famiglia. But he couldn't have said no. Nobody who wanted to live refused the Famiglia.

VV

Lovino stood in the cold alley, and as the wind whipped frozen tendrils at him he pulled his old rosary from his pocket and clutched it in his hands in front of his mouth as he mumbled prayers. He pressed the wooden cross to his lips, as tears started to collect at the corners of his eyes.

"Mio Dio, pardona i miei peccati" he whispered, against the cold cross, and prayed God had heard him and would leave him be for a little while. Maybe now He would see that Lovino had been punished enough. Maybe...

But it seemed God would never listen to him, would ignore him forever, and rightfully so, because a second later the door Lovino had been waiting half an hour to open, finally did just that, and behind it emerged a man. A humming man, with a lazy grin plastered across his face. A man that Lovino had thought, and thought again, and again, was the most beautiful human being.

The paper box Antonio had been carrying crashed to the street when he saw Lovino hidden in the shadows of the alley. "Lovi! What are you doing here? Get in, you may catch a cold!" Oh, God, no... No, no, no, no, no. Dio, why him of all people? What had he ever done to deserve this? No. Lovino couldn't make himself move as the Spaniard approached him, until the moment when Antonio extended his arm to touch his face. Lovino just snapped, pulling his hand with the pistol clutched inside it behind his back and pointed right between the other man's beautiful eyes.

"You're one of the Famiglia, aren't you?" Antonio breathed the words slowly, like Lovino was a wild animal he didn't want to scare. And maybe he was right, because he _felt_ like a wild animal, trapped within his own mind, with no escape in sight. He couldn't just kill Antonio. He couldn't. The world would be poorer without his joy in it. God, why him?

Lovino's finger trembled over the trigger, but before he could blow the Spaniard's brains off, Antonio brushed his fingers over his elbow. "No, wait. Don't I get a last wish?" Lovino stared at him for a long, long moment, trying to figure out what the other was thinking.

"What do you want?" Lovino's voice was broken and weak, and nothing like it should be. It was wrong in his ears, but it was appropriate, seeing how thoroughly he was broken inside. Antonio bit his lip. He seemed like he was hesitating over what he should ask, and it was strange, because he never hesitated. Never. He just did whatever crazy thing that popped in his head. But just this once, he seemed to be thinking.

Finally he whispered, breathed a word in Spanish, that Lovino didn't quite catch. But he had a creeping suspicion of what it may be, and it sent shivers down his spine. "What was that? What the fuck did you say?" Big green eyes met his own.

"I said, bésame. Por favor, Lovino, bésame." Lovino's arm fell to his side, the gun almost sliding off of his fingers. "Antonio... I'm going to kill you, and you... you..." What was he thinking? He should be spouting curses at him, not wanting to kiss him. No, no, this wasn't happening. This was too strange, too surreal to be the truth. But it was also so sad, so tragic, that it only figured that it took place in Lovino's life.

He stretched up, and pressed his lips against Antonio's. When he pulled away, seconds later, it felt as if the other's lips had left a burning imprint just over his own. He pressed his fingers there, and finally, blessedly, the gun slipped from his fingers and clattered to cold pavement as he too, fell on his knees in front of Antonio, murmuring "Mi dispiace, Antonio, mi dispiace. Dio, I'm so sorry" between broken sobs, and tears.

Antonio crouched, so their eyes were at the same level. "It's okay, Lovi. It's okay." The Spaniard's arms wrapped around him, and Lovino curled his fingers in the fabric of Antonio's shirt, pressing his damp face against the other's chest. His body quaked and shivered violently with every sob that was ripped from his throat. "You b-b-bast-t-tard. Why are you being so fucking nice to me? Why aren't killing me?"

Antonio whispered in his ear "How could I ever do that, mi Lovi?" and Lovino's heart shattered to a hundred painful, sharp pieces. Because he couldn't kill him. He couldn't. But if he disobeyed the Famiglia, the repercussions would come. It was either the Spanish man's death, or Lovino's and Feliciano's. He felt so helpless. So desperate. None of the two options wee doable. Lovino couldn't take either man from this world. It was unfair and wrong. He just... he couldn't just...

"Perché , Dio? Why them?" he breathed, the words broken in the middle by a winded sob. And Antonio was still holding him, still caressing his back and murmuring soothing words at him. That's when he decided.

Lovino picked the gun off from the ground and wedged it between their bodies. He lifted his gaze so he stared at the wide green eyes."Mi dispiace, mio Antonio. Ti amo. Mi dispiace" he murmured as he pressed his lips against Antonio's. He didn't let Antonio answer, he didn't want to hear words of rejection when he was about to do something like this. So, he pulled the trigger, the sound barely audible because of the silencer.

Lovino felt the blood spread against his stomach in a cruel, unforgivable red stain. Antonio eyes stared wide at him, and his lips were parted in a silent gasp. Lovino fought to keep his eyes open as the pain spread from his middle to the rest of his body, and he felt blood trickle from the side of his lip.

"Lovi. Lovi no. No, no, no." Antonio's lips were quivering, and his eyes were leaking, tears running down his beautiful face. "Why? Why?! Lovino, no, no, God, why, no..." He passed his fingers over the Italian's face, caressed him frantically, thumbs running over his cheeks and lips, as he whispered and shouted at him, his voice escalating from frighteningly low and broken, to strangely high pitched and panicked.

Lovino had difficulty opening his eyes the next time he blinked. The world was become a blur of green and dark brown and red, so much painful red. It was all so tiring. So he let his eyelids flutter down, closing his world in black. Antonio was still pleading at him to stay awake, was shaking him, was calling an ambulance. But it was too late. Much too late.

Lovino's head slumped back, his neck not able to keep it up anymore. Antonio was sobbing and screaming "No, mi Lovi. Despertarse. Please, please, mi Lovi..." No, he wanted to tell him. Be quiet, be quiet, Antonio. They might listen. They might come. No.

And for once more, God did whatever the fuck he liked, completely ignoring Lovino. Because in seconds the Famiglia was there. And what they saw wasn't a wounded man in the arms of the one he loved. No. They saw one of theirs, bleeding, in front of a relative of the enemy. Retribution. The Famiglia only cared for Retribution. So, even as much as Lovino tried to shout, to scream, to tell them to stop, they fired. And Antonio went down, both of them lying to their sides, looking at each other, bleeding. Dying.

Antonio was weeping still. He tangled his fingers with Lovino's. "Te amo, mi Lovi. Te amo." And Lovino, after years, felt the first true smile light his face. Because, right there, with Antonio next to him, their blood mingling and twisting around each other, their fingers intertwined, Lovino was happy. Maybe now, with Antonio next to him, God would let him into Heaven. And then the black came, clouding away bright green eyes, covering worlds of pain and hurt and heartbreak, and he could only feel his hand, where Antonio's fingers curled with his own.

"Mi dispiace" he breathed and those were his last words.

**A/N: God, what have I done...**

**Translations: Italian: -Mi dispiace: I'm sorry**

**-fratello: brother**

**-buonanotte: goodnight **

**-Mio Dio, pardona** **i miei peccati: My God, forgive my sins**

**-Perché, Dio?: Why, God?**

**-Ti amo: I love you**

**Spanish: -Te amo: I love you**

**-Bésame:Kiss me**

**-Por favor:Please**

**-Despertarse: Wake up**

**I'm sorry if I made any mistakes with the translations. And Jesus, Lovi, Tonio, I'm so sorry I killed you. I love you guys. God, I'm so sorry... **


End file.
